Electronic Music, Robotic People

[Preliat Mantis]

How did I get here?​

​

​

Which was the question that echoed through Preliat's mind. He was wondering of how he got himself into the situation he found himself in. The music was so loud that it shook the table slightly. He was suddenly aware he was next to the subwoofer, but he was too far gone in his drink to actually pay any attention to it. The music, the noises, the people, were all background. They were white noise, rain on a window. He just needed a distraction. He tried to stand, but found it nearly impossible. He was without armor, without weapons- nobody knew him. He had kept his face hidden by his helmet to anyone that he didn't know. People knew The Wolf, people knew what Preliat Mantis had done. But to everyone at the club, he was just a long-haired Epicanthix man with a leather jacket and plenty of credits to blow. Women were around him, but they were little more than cards on a table, or bugs beneath his feet. He had no real interest in them, especially women at a club. He didn't have the energy, let alone the sobriety, to deal with or attempt a sexual romp with a random pretty face at the bar.

His feet were heavy, as he stood up. His legs were uncooperative, and his balance was off. He was inebriated, definitely. He had downed enough colorful alcoholic beverages to make a significant impact on it, finally. The shape he was in and his height made it hard to get drunk easily, and significantly more expensive. He had spent a considerable amount of credits, but the bounty by Dredge made it possible for him to simply wander off to some part of the galaxy and never be seen from again. But he had a drive. But what was it? He tried to make sense of his decisions, stumbling through the club, trying to make it back to the bar. He needed a glass of water. He rubbed his eyes. Seeing double. Blurred vision. Hard to stand. Getting harder by the minute.

The electronic music and the robotic people swayed around him, moving politely, and sometimes he had to push through, but no one offered up a fight. It was just how it was at the club. Had to move, hard to push sometimes. Preliat got lost in the sea of people, grinding bodies that were either coherently dancing, awkwardly shuffling, or something inbetween. Girls eyed him, but he didn't pay much mind. He realized that he was older. He was much older than some of them, these were practically kids. Not much older than [member="Silas Mantis"].


He finally made it to the bar, and blurt out in Huttese for a glass of water. The bartender nodded, smiled, and handed him a plastic bottle. He flicked off the cap, and started to sip at it, leaning on the metal structure. He needed a break. He regretted coming here. But it was too late to leave now, he didn't have any other place to go, really. So he sat at the bar, sipping. Waiting. Waiting for what? To put it simply, to die.

 

[Cassus Akovin]

No no, this wouldn't do.

Memories started to flood into Triam's mind of a strange day on Wallala, when she got drunk off her ass in an oddly named Cantina as a pit stop for her search for Neuranium for her boots. There wasn't much she remembered that night, though what she did remember was simple: Preliat.

It was odd, how a chance encounter with the Mandalorian on Roche could develop into such a complicated... relationship? They had a few run ins in the past, usually nothing major. Despite this however, it had always been the Mandalorian reaching out to her, protecting her, saving her. Before becoming a hermit, she had said some things she regretted, mostly for the pain it revealed within him to her. She got into a scuffle with him, and didn't see him again for six years, where recently they had run into each other on some planet, where Preliat had gotten arrested. After having no contact with someone after six years that you used to be attracted to on some levels, and after a sort of falling out, it wasn't one of the more pleasant ways to say good bye.... again.

Then she had the luck of seeing him on Geonosis, fighting for the rebels... her employers enemy at the time. That wasn't exactly a fun run in either, simply because Preliat was supposed to be her friend... or rather, she was supposed to be his. She wasn't sure Preliat had any friends to call his own any more.

Not that she knew anyone else that knew [member="Preliat Mantis"] as a person.

At any rate, Triam was within the crowd, full armor as always, except she changed into a heavier cloak to cover herself up to hide a bit more, and had her helmet retracted. Was it sort of odd that she had been sort of stalking him here? Perhaps, but six years of isolation made people slightly weird, and she wasn't exactly normal before either.

Preliat was already wasted, and she contemplated approaching him... though she was scared how he'd react to her being drunk. So she stood there, in the corner, eyeing him like a dozen other girls...

... she tased a few of them around a corner earlier.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

His vision started to clear after a while, and long, hard drinks of water. He kept them coming, the bartender who had received a generous tip from him earlier, was eager to please the long-haired handsome man who was spending money like nothing. Preliat found himself in an eerily similar scenario, many years ago, back in his null-hockey days. Sponsors and contracts meant money poured in like water, and he directed the flow towards trivial, meaningless things. Liquor and women, being one of the most paramount.

His eyes danced over the people, but he was far too drunk and tired to accurately pick out anyone. So he went back up, shimmying past the people in the club, towards the more secluded, quieter VIP area. Only the gentle rumble of the bass and the quiet murmur of the who's-who of Zeltron occupied his ears. He sat in a chair, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees, before he leant forward, and ran his hands through his hair.


He needed a break. And this wasn't helping.

[member="Triam Akovin"]

 

[Cassus Akovin]

"Are you afraid of me, Triam?"

Those were the words he used before he attacked her so long ago.

She did not answer him then, being so busy trying to fight back and save her own skin... still analyzing what she had done wrong. An emotional surgeon, she was not. Otherwise she might be able to more accurate deal with her own complicated emotions, and inclinations.

She wanted to approached him, but found that all she could do was watch. The Wolf had eaten Preliat... although she wasn't entirely sure if Preliat had been there to begin with. Knowing anything these days was difficult to comprehend, most especially for her coming into a galaxy half empty and torn asunder by the world beyond life, and all the decrepit monsters that hide in it shadow.

Her friend left the main area, spending lavishly... though from what she heard last, he had the money to spare, and with this he was able to move into the quieter VIP areas. Technically, she wasn't allowed in there. When did that ever stop her? Preliat was the only thing in the whole galaxy she contemplated whether or not she actually feared... on a spiritual level that is. There was plenty in the physical sense she could be afraid of, but Preliat was something else that she did not yet understand.

Lack of understanding, was her greatest fear.

Several seconds behind the Mandalorian, she walked towards the VIP area. She was stopped by a bouncer.

"You can't go in there."

"Like hell I can't. My friend walked in there. I need to watch over him, make sure he doesn't get into trouble. You don't want any trouble... do you?" As she said this her mechanical arm moved her cloak aside to brandish her pistol, and pointed with her clawed hands with her thumb to the disguised droid further in the crowd. The bouncers eyes looked at both, and that's when she reached down and pulled out about a dozen credits.

The bouncer raised a brow.

"You're trying to bribe me with twelve credits?"

"No, I am bribing you with twelve credits, because you will take them. Now." She shoved the credits into his hand, hand on her pistol. She certainly had the appearance of a very well armed person. It would be wise to listen to her, and eventually the bouncer realized the only way out of this alive was just to listen to the woman.

Once up within the VIP lounge area, her eyes scanned for Preliat. Quickly, she spotted the man out, sitting down, hands running through his hair. Quietly she walked over to him.

"Are you afraid of me, Triam?"

She shook away the thoughts, trying to control herself. Why was this so difficult now? She had already seen him once before at this point...

Probably because of what I'm going to ask of him soon...

Shut up! She told herself.

"Preliat..." She said standing before him.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Are you afraid of me, Triam?

He stopped. The world stopped. And reality set in. He remembered all those awful words that Triam had received from him. He was woozy, and needed to lay down. Not deal with his impending mortality, presented by one [member="Triam Akovin"]. She was looking at him, far different than what she remembered. She was looking at him like the man she found in the bar. But this time, he had succeeded in drowning his sorrows. However, his anonymity was again destroyed by a passing old friend. Then again, Triam was at one point, on his mind more than a friend. But life had prevented the two of them from connecting. He however, found Aditya- and loved her wholly, and completely. But the Nether took her, and never returned her. Along with his infant daughter. He had other wounds, Elrood, Dromund Kaas, The Dark Harvest, war, death, loss- but he had never felt pain like that. It was a constant, a tumultuous, angry sea of sorrow that was drowning what was once a man, what was once Preliat Mantis. Preliat Mantis had hopes, dreams, and could feel and be happy. The thing before Triam, sitting, inebriated, was not incapable- but lacking in those things.


He looked up, slowly. Dark brown eyes, eyes that had become lighter with age- reflected the shifting pink and blue lights of the club."I was hoping to go unnoticed. That keeps failing."He said softly, leaning back in the chair. His hands rested on his legs, before he stared up at Triam, in a cross manner.


"How long have you been following me?"

 

[Cassus Akovin]

[member="Preliat Mantis"]'s question served to create a quick intake of breathe. After closing her eyes for a second and biting her lip slightly, she opened them and answered as honestly as she could manage.

"Longer than I'd care to admit." It was difficult admitting that you've engaged in slightly stalkerish activities, and felt that Preliat would not likely take it too kindly that she was invading his private pains once again. However, she had no intentions of opening him up any more. It had been a long time coming, but she finally understood what set him off so long ago. He had wounds, wounds that wouldn't heal, wounds that refused to heal, he had become consumed by them, until there wasn't anything left but wounds. One does not treat so many wounds by trying to cut them open and figure out why they happened, that wasn't healing, that was an autopsy. As much as she feared him, she feared for him as well, and would be unable to bear seeing him finally dead because of his wounds. He was probably her only real friend. Certainly the only one she had been able to interact with on a purely personal level, without any ulterior business motives.

"I saw you on Geonosis. I'd apologize for being on the wrong side, but it was just a job." She shrugged, not really sure if an apology was actually warranted. Surely he must understand the lengths she must go to make a living these days? She could only hope that is. That, in a way, was probably what was so enticing about Preliat. In a sense, she didn't know, did not know the minutiae details that might set him off or hardly bother him at all. He was an unknown, a fear to her... and Triam had a very strange relationship with fear. It was attractive to her. It drew her in with powerful forces. She needed it. Craved it.

So in a sense, until she learned to know Preliat, until she could no longer fear him, she would keep returning to him. It was in her nature to do so, and it made her feel awful that she could be so mechanically controlled. Of the two of them though, she was the machine, as she had acknowledged many years ago. Living things, truly living things on the animalistic levels of Preliat's demons, were precisely the opposite of a machine, and worked on functions that were difficult for her to understand.

The more advanced machine, that was as old as time.

"You look like you've gotten worse Preliat. Are you still willing to speak with me?"

 

[Silas Mantis]

What was this feeling?

Silas, who was just old enough to drink under most galactic laws for some reason, was having a very interesting experience in the wake of far to many glasses of Correlian Ale. He'd kept up with Preliat, the two hadn't split up and abandoned each other like before, they were the Mantis Brothers Grim, or something like that, he wasn't thinking clearly at present. Maintaining a stoic exterior, Silas did his best to stagger over to [member="Preliat Mantis"] without looking totally incapable of holding his alcohol.

He failed miserably.

Tripping over himself he crashed into [member="Triam Akovin"], shoving her before regaining his footing, staggering forward, and sittin-falling onto a stool. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but if his brother's face was any indication, it wasn't a happy conversation. Then again, he hadn't seen Preliat smile since he was barely into his teenage years, spare one or two occasions. He hadn't been all that close with his sister in law, or his niece, but he still felt agony with their disappearance. Nothing like his brother however, the wave of sorrow that had overcome him would've drowned Silas. But not his brother, not Preliat.

"This, was a bad idea."

The remark was completely out of context, and he been sober enough to realize he'd just shoved, he'd likely had been getting his defense up. Hopefully Triam would note the resemblance between the two, and not punch out the intoxicated young Mandalorian. Hopefully.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat looked upwards at [member="Triam Akovin"]. He remembered a story that his father used to tell him. Of the wolf and the hunter. The wolf was a bad, rabid animal. It could not be reasoned with, it could not be tamed. It was not just an animal in the story, it was everything. The corporate thugs at their door, trying to get their land once and a while. The wild Mandalorian drunkards causing problems on their homestead in the desert. This was the wolf. And he imagined himself many nights, as the brave and powerful hunter, skulking across the dunes and sands of Ordo, hunting and tracking this great animal. He imagined himself standing toe to toe with the beast, holding the rifle up to his cheek, and slaying this great monster. But as he grew older, the story faded from his mind. And then, he realized later, that he was not the Hunter. He was not the hero. He was not the wandering man, the good samaritan, the good man. He was not a good person. He was the wolf. He was the beast, the vicious animal. He had turned himself into this. There was no going back. There was no returning to what he had, what he was before.

"Money. You cared more of money than of principle. And no, I have no real, genuine interest in speaking to you."

He did not share his thoughts on the story. It was painful to even think about at this point. [member="Silas Mantis"], however, displayed something else. Drunkenness. He glared at his brother, before throwing up his hand, but not to strike, but to scold. He spoke in the Ordo dialect of Mando'a to his brother.

"<Have you never been with alcohol, brother?>"

It was both light hearted and serious. Preliat could at least maintain some sort of bearing. Silas did not seem to able to. Silas, also, was growing into Preliat. Which showed, for just a second in Preliat's eyes, was guilt. Whatever Silas was going to turn into, he hoped that it would not be anything like him.

 

[Cassus Akovin]

That stung. Hard.

Being criticized by Preliat was like being lacerated. He got to the root of precisely what he didn't like about something, and yanked it out into the open. Her face suddenly downcast, she didn't even see [member="Silas Mantis"] coming, and as he stumbled into her she was pushed back. Not nearly enough to actually move her much, given the collective weight of her gear keeping her relatively grounded despite the mass of the Mantis brother.

Immediately, her hot headedness yelped out a, "Watch where you're going!" and she was ready to tase him... but her movements were stopped when Preliat gave him a tongue lashing. Looking up to Preliat her features softened as she began to analyze what was going on, comparing the two faces. They had an almost uncanny resemblance.

She did not remember Preliat having other family... though beyond the pain of his past, she really did not know much about her old friend.

"Who's this?" Suddenly, she shook her head. She would deal with that later, first she felt the burning desire to answer for herself, and hopefully regain speaking terms with Preliat. She had no hope it would be immediate, but she only desired him to know her rationale.... he was also heavily inebriated, so it was probably not going to go over well.

"Ugh, nevermind. Yes, I was out for the money, but I didn't become a mercenary to be paid in ideals, Preliat. I do have a lines in the sand, but sometimes I have to cross a few of those lines in wars I hate, so I can fight in the ones I care dearly about. You of all people should understand the cruel mistress of war... more than anyone I know, in fact."

Her face was full of worry, and slightly in confusion. It was likely to be expected, after all, in all technicality for a brief time they had been enemies... on opposite sides of a war. They did not meet each other then, but it didn't seem to matter: she sided with the wrong people.

Did she feel guilt about it then? Maybe slightly, but not as much as she does now.

 

[Silas Mantis]

“<Noooo, mom got strict once you left. On everyone but herself and stuff. Haven’t had the chan-hic!-chance until now.>”

Speaking his home dialect wasn’t something he’d done in a long time, but even in his drunken stupor he felt a warmth was over him at the gentle reminder of home. He’d been back recently, and he wondered if Preliat had at least written, just to let the family know he was okay, the loss of her first grandchild had torn up their mother as well as spiking her anxiety.

His eyes shifted to Triam, the woman who from what he’d been gathering had been speaking to his brother prior to his ‘arrival’ on the scene. “I am Silas Mantis, thissis mah big brother.” He slurred, jutting a thumb in Preliat’s direction. "Be careful, he makes angry Wookies seem like lil babies by comparison.” He whispered before rising from his slouch against the bar and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his upturned hands.

Silas regretted drinking internally, but behind the rather aloof drunkard he was presenting who seemed to be enjoying himself, Silas was in actuality drowning his sorrows and doubts. Years ago when Preliat had found him knee deep in shit with Trandoshan slavers, Silas had inquired if Preliat still thought about the first life he took; to his surprise Preliat did, Silas didn’t. His brother told he would from that point on, but he didn’t. Silas didn’t even have passing thoughts about those he killed, he understood they had families and loved ones, but much to his displeasure, he didn’t care.

It wasn’t killing that bothered him, it was the fact that it didn’t which did. What did that make him? Even his brother, Preliat Mantis, the Wolf of the Mandolorians, felt some remorse, but he didn’t. There were only two kinds of beings in the galaxy like that he knew: droids and monsters (he threw the Sith and most affiliated parties into the latter category). He certainly wasn’t the former, and he didn’t want to become the latter.

[member="Triam Akovin"] [member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"<You should learn then.>"


He turned his attention back to [member="Triam Akovin"] after giving his brother, [member="Silas Mantis"] a quick quip. He stared at Triam, obviously both disgusted, but more importantly- disappointed in her. He had higher standards, and Triam wasn't meeting them at the moment.

"The rebels wanted freedom. The Confederacy came with their Sith and their evil doers in toe. And you shacked up with them for a bit of cash in hand."The light behind Preliat's eyes flashed in anger."I understand war and conflict. But I don't fight for money. I fight for my people, fight for the eventual hope that my family wouldn't have to. I fight the darkness of the galaxy, and the wolves at the steps of Mandalore. I didn't take any money from the rebels. I owed them. You, you were killing men you had no business killing- though the business you were there on was despicable." Even in his intoxication, Preliat's words were eloquent, but hid a monstrous, rageful beast beneath.

"I do hope that the rebels you killed, the men and women who were full of hope for freedom, keep you up at night."

 

[Cassus Akovin]

"I'm well aware, [member="Silas Mantis"]." She said in relation to the man who informed her and confirmed her suspicion that they were not just relatives, but siblings. Her weary gaze did not leave Preliat however. There was a silence as Triam constructed her next set of words with some care, taking all of Preliats words like daggers to the gut. She would cherish each wound he torn into her, analyze it, categorize it, and place inventory on her own mental faculties as all of this went down.

She did remember her utter distaste of hearing one "Darth Orcus" on the radio channel. She remembered dismissing it in disgust, but following his orders like the good little soldier she was. Then she remembered other things, unrelated things that were similar: the most foul memory she could remember in relation to the sith being the awful monstrosity that had been Kaine Zambrano... a dictator she had sold Phrik to. There had been others, dubious characters that if not for their business deals wouldn't let see the light of day around her if given the chance... not even a word between them.

It simply proved to her that what Preliat said to her meant nothing... but it also meant Triam had been for a while now, in a perpetual state of wrongness for the sake of financial gain and stability. After all, she left her nation behind because she couldn't handle being in a regimented machine where she was merely one in ten trillion cogs. She wanted to be an individual. She wanted to be free.

She was a rebel at heart.

So in sense, she had a strong tug of sympathy for the rebels cause... but they had been unwilling to financially fund her. They couldn't pay for her particular ideal of freedom. Freedom always had a price attached to it; that was a lesson in business women should know and learn. It was similar to the Sith belief that peace was a lie; woe to them should they discover that their chains will never be truly broken in freedom without a heavy price just as binding as their old chains, within that same belief.

In truth, despite her sympathies, she decided she felt no remorse for those she killed on Geonosis. Geonosis was entirely her business, and entirely her business to kill them. That was the price of their pursuit of happiness and freedom, as after all, it had been a pursuit, not a guarantee. When they decided to abolish the old social orders of imperialism they signed a contract with death, that made them fair game to any sensible person the right to terminate them if you are paid to do so. They were no longer innocents in her eyes, as they had the same refined intent to kill that she had.

A shiver ran down her spine as she realized she had been in solitude for too long, and was quickly taking a slippery slope into murderer territory.

"Unfortunately Preliat, I am not you. I am not Mandalorian, and I am convinced I will never be a good woman. I have always fought and killed for despicable selfish reasons, ever since Roche. I've always been this way Preliat. I find it surprising, that you should be so upset with me now, although I understand it intellectually. Those men and women who died were noble fighters, and died good deaths... and if I slept, I am certain that I would see them, or hear their families weep."

Family. It was honestly a difficult concept for Triam to fully grasp. She was the only daughter (or child) of a drunkard gambling military man, and a dismissive absent mother. Her concept of parental guidance or familial bonds were shaky at best. She had always loved her father though, until he passed. That was when these ideals of family disintegrated, and stopped being a part of her psychological development, or consideration.

Which may explain why she was having so difficult a time understanding Preliats pain, or the reasons why he fought, or that his brother actually existed in that familial sense. In her subconscious mind, Silas was just another person, and familial ties simply didn't click. Intellectually, she understood word for word what Preliat had to say.... but her finicky emotions were simply confused by them.

Perhaps Triam had been attracted to Preliat for the sole reason that he was a male military man like her father, that was capable of scolding her like this... that had that same sort of melancholy he got whenever he didn't have alcohol in his system. Maybe that's why she kept coming back.

It had been her intention to come here in the interest of watching over Preliat, but now she wasn't so sure of who truly needed watching.

Realizing his disappointment after this internal revelation, hit her like a freighter ship crashing into her chest. She continued to stand before them both, almost frozen in concentration, suppressing her jittery need to do anything else but what she was doing currently.

"To be honest Preliat I came here because I was concerned about you... but now I'm not certain what exactly it is that I'm concerned about in anything. I won't blame you if you hate me now, I suppose after all we've been through you would be more than warranted to."

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"They didn't die a good death!" Preliat stood up, angrily. Even intoxicated and not quite coherent, he was still able to put forth his ideas and thoughts well into sentences. He stared at her, hatefully."There is no good death! You fought for the Sith! You can spin it any way you want, but you fought for another puppet and ally of the Sith! And you dare try to absolve yourself of what you have done by saying it was for money and selfish reasons!"He kicked over the table, but the security team didn't care. He had been shoveling money into the club all night, between him and his brother drinking, and the costs associated with it, so they dared not disrupt him. They would charge him later, but he didn't care.


"You squander every opportunity given to you! You are never satisfied with what you have! You're greedy and you should only blame yourself for what you have done. Not a lack of money, because I know for a fact you run into money quite often. You just squander it or lose it all. And you keep coming back to me, for whatever reason that you would like to come up for the hour."Preliat turned and ran a hand through his hair, turning to face his brother. He stared at him for a while, frowning. A multitude of thoughts ran through his head, of what he had just said and what he was feeling. He'd talk about it with Silas later on. Silas and him were developing a better relationship, certainly better than it was. They were both becoming something they did not intend to be. Preliat hoped that Silas would steer better than he did. He turned and spoke to his brother, briefly.

"<All I can see in her is the bastard in me. I don't know what she wants from our little meetings, nor do I. I met her before Aditya, back when I was about 22. We've had an interesting relationship ever since.>"He explained briefly to his brother, but didn't elaborate much further. Not here, not now. He turned back to Triam.

"I don't hate you. I hate what you've done and why you've done it."



[member="Triam Akovin"] [member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Cassus Akovin]

"I don't hate you. I hate what you've done and why you've done it."

Her eyes wandered downcast. Was it bad to feel a small portion of relief in that statement? She had not done something so terrible as to earn her best friends more direct hate towards the center of her being. He hated her actions, he hated her reasons behind them, but as a whole, despite all the evidence against her, Preliat did not hate her.

Though, what she worried about most was whether or not Preliat tolerated some version of her he had created in his mind, or what she truly was now, whatever that may be. The Mandalorian had long ago worried he had become the mask he created for himself... had Triam created her own mask? How far gone had she treaded down the path of capitalism and enterprise to forget her ties and ignore her hatred for the things that she was supposedly opposed to.

She had exiled herself for six years because she felt unwell, and upon her return ignorant to the state of the galaxy, how much of that ignorance was simply an act to scratch that greedy itch that pervaded her entire being? To engage in war, right or wrong, for the thrill of combat and murder? To be rewarded for her preparations to destroy lives? Was that who she was? Was that what she had sought out to become? Even as a mercenary, how far could she push away her own personal connections and interests, merely to make a profit off of unjust wars?

Supposedly, she doesn't work with the One Sith, and will do anything in her power to destroy them... yet in the past, she had dealt with their kind, and was paid with their money for her services, and now as she grows older does she avoid directly dealing with them through obscure allies to make it seem like she isn't one of them... when indeed she had a fatal attraction to their power and wealth, that she desperately avoided acknowledging?

Whether these be truths or more falsifications... she wanted no more of it. It would be a long road... but there was a key difference between the delusional woman and the once disillusioned man before her: she was willing to change. She was a blade... and she could be forged, and reshaped, not just in the heat of battle, but in the heat of a forge designed by those who would see her do better.

She was practically shaking now. Quavering in her boots. Out of anger? Fear? Nervous apprehension? More than likely all of them: anger at herself, fear of herself, and nervously apprehending what she may become. If anything was any indication, history has shown that the things Triam fears, drives her to destroy them. If this were true, then she would destroy all traces of Triam that she feared most in the galaxy. This though was a dangerous path, and if mislead, may result in a worse abomination than the cancer she tried to cut out.

Triam had already proven that her emotional surgical skills only made the problem worse and more explosive.

"Then what would you have me do?"

[member="Preliat Mantis"], [member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

"<Maybe it's the drinks talking but I'd say giver her a chance. Maybe she's trying to do the right thing, she's reaching out to you Preliat. If you smack away her hand she'll only get worse.>"

The words pouring from the younger Mantis's mouth were oddly educated and put together for his current state, he himself was generally impressed. Laying against the bar the Mandolorian did his best to keep from falling as he propped himself up and let the two go at it. As much as he wanted to help his brother, he couldn't find the words anymore, whoever this [member="Triam Akovin"] was, he hoped she knew what she was doing. //it wasn't that he didn't trust [member="Preliat Mantis"] to not do anything rash, it was that he didn't trust the rest of the people in the bar, or the universe and its bastardizing actions that followed his family like a lost dog.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

[member="Silas Mantis"] had a point. Silas, the younger of the brother, was more thoughtful of his brother at times. He was hot-headed, but he was also more empathetic. Even before all the things that happened to them both. Preliat had seen and done much, but Silas had been through enough for Preliat to respect him as an equal. And thus, he respected his words and his considerations. However, Preliat was slightly better at handling his alcohol. But Preliat wasn't just going to write off the things that [member="Triam Akovin"] had done, out of greed and out of necessity. He had done some terrible things, but he had a cause behind it. At least, what he thought was a cause. He leaned over the railing of the upper level of the club, while the music died down and the party-goers began to return home. Things were quieter, so he could speak in his natural soft tone and be heard.


"<I understand, brother. You are right.>"


Preliat turned to face her.


"I would have you prove to me that you are more than a gun for hire, a person developed only by greed and aspirations for wealth and property."He cocked his head, and looked to his brother. He had an idea in mind, but he did not verbally state it. Silas could pick up on his drift- Preliat wanted Triam to do something that would seem difficult, given the current climate of their people."Show me that you care. Show me that you can. And that you will."

 

[Cassus Akovin]

[member="Preliat Mantis"], [member="Silas Mantis"]

"Then I will do it. For you. I will show you. I won't say that I'll have atoned for what I've done, but I will show you that my compassion doesn't stop at credits. I am not a gun." There wasn't anything else she could say, and even what she did say, she felt was overly committal and dramatic. Could she really change herself so quickly? One could suppose that might be her test. It wasn't anything she could show him now... right now it was just words. Feelings, soft squishy things that could get burned in her next heat of passion. At any rate, she couldn't deal with this any more, and she guessed that he probably was sick of it by now anyway.

She turned on her heel and walked out, and a pitiful tear spilled out of one of her eyes, earning only her ire. She had no right to cry here for what she did. Tears were for the dead.

Her head hurt from all of this moral shifting she had to deal with, forcing her decision making into a regimented system of right and wrong that had long since been damaged for more greedy tendencies. As a machine, it was her duty to repair herself, because unlike others, she could not evolve. Hopefully, she gave Preliat the impression she was actually going to do something, and wasn't going to be a drama queen about it.

Somewhere inside her, she doubted that he did.